


believe in me (help me to believe in anything)

by madness_and_smiles



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:39:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madness_and_smiles/pseuds/madness_and_smiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a man whose name is not Phil Coulson</p>
            </blockquote>





	believe in me (help me to believe in anything)

**Author's Note:**

> So.  
> SPOILERS FOR THE AVENGERS MOVIE. DO YOU HEAR ME?? SPOILERS.
> 
> So I wrote this. Um. Enjoy please. fuckitfireeverything wrote a companion piece that may or may not be on her account?

There is a man whose name is not Phil Coulson. He sits in the corner booth at the Applewood Café on a Sunday morning. In front of him is a cup of coffee, taken with cream and sugar, and a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup. One hand is tangled in his hair while the other flips through the pages of a budget report while frantically writing down numbers on a pad of paper. It is an image that the citizens of Applewood have grown used to since Paul Baker moved to town last year to fill in the position of Applewood High’s principal. The tired sighs and occasional slurp of coffee as  Principal Baker works tirelessly to make sure that every cent the school spends counts have long faded into the soundtrack of the café, hardly anyone gives him a second glance anymore.

 Occasionally a parent or a student will stop over and say hi, he also teaches sophomore English so it’s not uncommon to see some teenager chewing over an essay thesis with him. He’ll buy them breakfast for sacrificing their Sunday morning, and they’ll call him teach. He was originally greeted with the suspicion that always arrives with an outsider, but now he’s well liked. Test scores have risen, the cafeteria food has improved, and the baseball team has even started to win some games.  Principal Baker is efficient, clever, and kind. Despite the receding hairline, he’s considered quite a catch. His love life, or lack of one, has become a standard topic at Shannon’s Salon, and because of that he’s been set up with more than one lovely lady from the village. He takes them out to dinner, maybe dancing, and at the end of the night they mutually agree that dating wouldn’t be the best idea, but they should remain friends.

Eventually though, he’ll find the right girl. They tell themselves this often. He’ll settle down, have a couple of kids who will one day attend their father’s school, he’ll grow old and grow a garden. Meanwhile the test scores will continue to rise and the baseball team will go to the national championship, and nobody will ever wonder why Principal Baker spends so much time looking into the trees, as if he can see something that they can’t.

 

//

 

                When Fury had visited him in the medical bay, where Phil sat in pain but feeling upbeat, he had asked him a simple question.

                “Do you still believe in heroes, Agent Coulson?”

                Phil had looked down at the bandage above his heart, hiding a ragged wound with muscles and flesh still trying to sew themselves together. He thought about the cold burn of Loki’s staff, the Captain America cards he kept in his locker, the look on Clint’s face on the plane home from Budapest, and how he’d destroyed a small town to prove that a god walked among them. He thought about the millions of little sacrifices he’d made to push Shield a little bit farther every day, the dead agents and the missed calls from his mother and the bare apartment he called home.

                “Yes Boss. I still believe in heroes.”  Phil kept his eyes trained on Fury’s good one, waiting for the other shoe to drop as the tall man let out a sigh and sat down next to the bed.

                “You have new orders Coulson.”

 

//

 

Phil obeyed his orders. He was a good agent; he knew what was best for the team. They needed someone to avenge, and really he should feel honored that that someone was him. He was the one who came up with the idea in the first place; although at the time he didn’t exactly think he’d be making a recovery. It didn’t matter that it was personal. It didn’t matter that when Clint _needed_ him, needed to be held and shushed and told good things, he wasn’t there. It didn’t matter that somewhere Clint was in mourning while Phil was waking up to an empty bed. None of that mattered as long as The Avengers survived.

Phil tried very hard to believe that.

But then there was no Phil Coulson, there was only Paul Baker, and the days bled into weeks which turned into months and the bed remained cold and he realized that the last time he saw Clint his eyes had been a clouded blue that swallowed everything and he’s not sure he can believe in much of anything anymore, no matter how many times The Avengers make the headlines.

 

//

 

The front door is unlocked when Paul gets home from the cafe, so he grabs his gun. He walks through the house slowly, his shoes not making a sound across the old wooden floor. Nothing has been moved or taken, but Paul knows he didn’t leave the door unlocked. He never leaves the door unlocked, although he’s been told time and time again that there is no crime to worry about in Applewood. Just a habit from his city days, the townspeople suppose. He briefly wonders if someone is breaking in to steal the midterm exam, when he walks into the living room and sees Clint sitting cross-legged on top of the bookcase. He is not surprised; there was a reason he had it built so high.

The afternoon sun is casting the shadow of the tree outside across Clint’s face, and for a tense second all Paul does is watch the outlines of leaves flutter over Clint’s eyes. Then Clint says “A whole year.” and the wall built out of nights alone and cut out headlines shatters. Phil Coulson is not as good of an agent as he thought he was.

He keeps his eyes locked on the archer as he switches the safety on and sets the gun down.

“They ruined my Captain America trading cars you know. They didn’t even ask me, just smeared my blood all over them. I’ve been collecting those since I was a kid. Mint condition.” Phil knows that he’s already told Clint everything about his cards, has shown them to him half a dozen times. He also knows that he shouldn’t be talking about ruined trading cards right now.

 He expects the punch before it’s thrown, sees it coming and knows that despite his lack of training over the past year he could still block it if he wanted to. He doesn’t though, because he owes Clint more, so much more. He can already feel his eye swelling as he gets up off of the ground. He looks at Clint and takes in the face flushed with anger and the strangled breathing.

“That’s going to be hard to explain to the kids tomorrow…” is all he can get out before Clint grabs him hard enough to bruise and crushes him to his body. Phil holds on tight and shivers a little as Clint buries his nose into his neck. He inhales the scent of Clint’s hair and his hands begin to rub small calming circles into Clint’s back.

“You asshole… you terrible asshole…” is all he can hear coming out of Clint’s mouth, the words sharp and tingling against his collarbone.

“I know, I know I am. “ Phil agrees readily, because it’s true. Belief in heroes, being a good agent, neither of those is a good excuse. He pushes Clint back from him a little because he needs to see him, needs to look him in the eyes. There’s a scar on his temple that wasn’t there a year ago, and lines around his eyes that have grown deeper. His eyes are a clear blue, and they have no trouble focusing on Phil’s own.  “I believed you’d find me though,” because that’s true too. Even during Paul Baker’s longest nights alone, grading term papers in a life he’d never wanted, Phil Coulson knew that one day Clint would come back for him. He watches something come undone in Clint at that moment, feels an overwhelming need to card his fingers through Clint’s hair and hold him close, but he allows the archer to make the next move.

“You’re still an asshole,” and Phil knows that later there will be words about how Phil was never supposed to leave him alone, about commitment and loyalty. For now though, Clint just captures Phil’s lips with his own and kisses him hungrily as he pushes him back towards the wall. Kissing Clint feels like finally breathing again, and Phil knows that he will be back in New York very soon, regardless of what Fury has to say on the matter.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Denial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/405149) by [fuckitfireeverything](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckitfireeverything/pseuds/fuckitfireeverything)




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